


All My Friends Are Heathens

by Helicon



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: (that's the ship's tagline as a whole though), Bisexuality, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Extreme Headcanoning, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Implied Activities of Questionable Legality-slash-Morality, Jealousy, Laurence is Gross, M/M, Morning After, Overtired College Students, Sharing Clothes, Unrequited Crush, what is chronological order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helicon/pseuds/Helicon
Summary: A collection of oneshots to be updated when they happen. All Laurence/Gehrman all the time, baby.





	1. Reconciling the Availability of Peanut Butter in the 19th Century with Fun Things To Do At 1 AM

**Author's Note:**

> This one's dedicated to Viobliterator for putting up with my incredible ship trashiness and giving me some fun headcanons that I used here and will continue to use, Knees for the historically correct substitute for peanut butter, ThorTheLizardGod for looking it over despite knowing nothing about it, and Kinnoth for the useful advice on writing things specifically for a ship.

Laurence rarely announced his presence when entering a room -- his was more  _ felt _ , by those perceptive or paranoid enough. As it was, on stepping out of the humble dwelling that was the Workshop and leaving only an inch open between the heavy door and frame, he stood there for barely a minute before Gehrman, sitting shirtless and slouched on the second stair from the bottom, turned around a fraction and waved him over.

 

“You're never awake this early,” Laurence noted, nodding up at the moon high in the summer sky. 

 

“And  _ your _ excuse is…?” With a light chuckle, Gehrman let his hand drop onto the stair, next to Laurence’s lap, and hummed when the student placed his hand on top. 

 

“I woke up, you were missing.”

 

“You know I’d never stray too far from you, Laurence.”

 

“I know. I was merely concerned.” Fingers moved under his, partnered with the soft noise of fingertips rubbing against stone, but what caught Laurence’s attention was a little glass jar on Gehrman’s other side, which he’d been noticed noticing, and reached over to pick it up for examination. “...Apple butter?” he asked, a thin and incredulous smile crossing his lips and staying.

 

“What of it?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Remember when Vitus left us for a couple months? Went out west for the holidays? He brought much more than this back, we split it up amongst ourselves and I still haven't touched mine.” Gehrman paused, stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “...Sorry. I figure now’s as good a time as any to try it, you know?”

 

After a brief exchanging of a series of looks, brow-raising and glances back and forth, Laurence unscrewed the lid and put it back down between them.

 

“Shouldn't we--” The hunter fumbled for words, and bit down on his tongue to silence himself and prevent a worse mess of syllables pouring out of him. In exasperation when he was sure that  he could, he added, "I _know_ how language works... You're probably as sick of that as I am."

 

Laurence just cocked his head. “Speak a little more slowly, dear, you'll avoid it better.”

 

“I'm trying.”  

 

“Spoons?”

 

“Yes, that.”

 

“I don't see the need for it,” said Laurence with a shrug. What he got in response was Gehrman staring at him like he'd suggested they take a leap, naked, into the lake at Byrgenwerth -- they'd done it before but not before a straight hour of Laurence coaxing Gehrman out of his pants. “What is there to fear? Our hands are clean.” As if to set an example, though in reality his sweet tooth prevailed over his ability to wait, Laurence dipped a finger into the jar and scooped out a small amount, put it in his mouth, and grinned around it. “See?” 

 

So matter-of-factly he'd gone about it, it was almost disgusting to Gehrman, who went ahead and did it himself anyway. “You absolute  _ animal,” _ he laughed. “It's a real once-in-a-while thing for sure, this. Special occasions and all.”

 

“This is a special occasion, then?”

 

“Oh, absolutely.” 

 

“May I ask what the occasion is?”

 

“We haven't had one in a while. And you’re here right now, so… you've got something on the corner of your mouth--no, other side, where I'm pointing. There you go.”

 

“You've been into your books again,” noted Laurence, contemplating the apple butter on his finger. He eventually decided to dab it on the end of Gehrman’s nose, making him reel back wide-eyed and thus forcing Laurence to lean forward to kiss it off of him with a falsely wicked laugh.

 

“Really, it wouldn't kill you to tell me when you’re about to do that.” Grimacing, he wiped at the tiny bit of sugar and saliva left with the inside of his wrist, then as an extra measure, more of an afterthought, dried that on his trousers.

 

“But you let me, didn't you?”

 

“If you were anyone else…”

 

“You never did say why you were up so early.”

 

“I was hoping you'd forget asking.”

 

“I don't forget.”

 

“I know you don't.” Gehrman shook his head, looked away from Laurence, opting instead to gaze out at the distance. “I couldn't sleep. I waited until you were out and then left.” 

 

Laurence held up the jar, silently questioning its role.

 

“You know how you’ll stay up all night, and suddenly you're ridiculously hungry?”

 

“Say no more, I'll start thinking about it and then I'll eat this whole thing. Why couldn't you sleep?” More silence. “You can tell me.”

 

“ _ Can  _ I?”

 

“...Judging by the way you just said that, I have the feeling you don't want to.”

 

“It's…” he sighed. “Nothing that concerns you right now.”

 

“You  _ will _ tell me when it does, though?” At that point Laurence noticed that Gehrman’s feeling-up, for lack of a better phrase, of the stair they sat on had become more agitated, veering toward frantic. His fingers did not straighten out, not once, constantly shifting between different angles of bent. His face was calm, but his hands told a wildly different story that was barely Laurence’s place to pry into at the time.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Shall we go back inside?”

 

“I think I'd like to stay out here a little longer, but if you want to, I'm not going to stop you.”

 

Though he made to stand, Laurence still bent down and kissed Gehrman on the cheek, a gesture that was reciprocated twofold. “Don't be out too long? You need sleep as much as anyone else.”

  
“I know.”


	2. A Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's so great about shy, romantic first kisses anyway?

The first time they kiss, a real kiss and not the chaste peck-on-the-cheek kind either one of them would have just as readily given to a great-aunt they hadn't seen in a year, is less than ideal. Less than romantic, than sensual, it is no fairy tale or novel kiss. It just  _ is _ \-- at a school ball, barely salvaged from the conceptual scrap heap after that year’s junior class cemented itself as a load of troublemakers on the whole; an entire class nearly decimated a lab with their failed experiments and the letting loose of a creature from the Chalices. In the men’s restroom, unoccupied save for a passed out upperclassman that neither recognized, as they sought out privacy.

 

Laurence had argued that they most certainly would not cause a scene, Gehrman’s rebuttal was that if there was one non-academic thing Laurence was good at, it was causing a scene and that he would do it without even meaning to. Laurence conceded, bringing up the fact that neither of them were adequately prepared to explain to their families should rumors spread -- particularly Gehrman, who had been bringing the same girl (from what was now a veritable pack of Hunters) home on holidays for two years and playing games of cards with her behind locked doors in his bedroom. 

 

“All just to make your parents think you're having sex?”

 

“With women. Henriett likes them, anyway, and they like her well enough."

 

“Still. It would be best to cut that off before you dig yourself a deeper hole.”

 

Knelt in a corner by the sinks, facing one another, the two stared at each other for what felt like ages until Gehrman finally spoke up. “So, do I just…?” He leaned in, one hand covering Laurence’s shoulder almost entirely, pulled him in and then stopped.

 

“Do you--mmf!” As his shock turned to encouraging moans, Laurence held him by the sides of his head and kissed him far more deeply. He pulled back for air, laughing, but Gehrman was silent save for his loud, unsteady breaths. Their eyes met, deep brown on steely blue; Laurence brushed his cape to the side and straddled himself over Gehrman’s lap to kiss him again with unbridled greed. Teeth tugged on lips, hands roamed, the air around them seemed to heat up to unreasonable levels but neither of them removed a thing -- much less themselves from each other.

 

Outside, the noise no longer existed. There was no Byrgenwerth and no students and no procrastinated studying. No music or dances or other couples more freely half-making love in the corridors. Inside was a different matter of course, there was still the sleeping student and the acrid stench of vomit and sweat. At the same time, the scent of lilies and chemicals, old parchment and dust and metal, filled the air in their immediate vicinity. Had it not been cut so deep with foulness, it would have been too much.

 

Tugging on and making a mess of Laurence’s hair, moaning with his head against the wall, Gehrman paused to catch his breath and gazed at Laurence with heavy-lidded eyes, so much that had been repressed that whole evening pouring out of him now. “I want more of you,” he said.

 

“Then take it.” Palms braced on Gehrman’s chest, Laurence grasped his shirt in one hand and grinned. “How else will we get anywhere?”

 

“It’s too soon. Just… just know that I do.”

 

“Too soon for you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“...I can respect that.”

 

“I  _ am _ satisfied with this, though.” 

 

And so Laurence was yanked in for more, panting between kisses, eagerly diving back in and taking what was without a doubt  _ his, _ now. He'd find himself sitting more firmly on Gehrman’s legs, to be lifted off of sensitive places. Tumbling backwards when Gehrman wrapped his arms around him, cradling the back of his head, perhaps anticipating landing on the floor but instead feeling the  _ thud _ and  _ crack _ of knuckles on ceramic and swears hissed in hot breath against his skin.

 

“Laurence--oh,  _ fuck--” _

 

“Hush, hush, let me see it… can’t have our dauntless hunter set back by a couple injured fingers, can we?”

 

“You think you're--” Another pained hiss. “--real clever.”

 

“Gehrman, my dear, I am  _ synonymous _ with clever these days.” He clucked his tongue. “Ice. Don't move it, hold on…” Removing a clean handkerchief from his pocket, Laurence tied it around Gehrman’s fingers, binding them together and past the point of possible movement. “Just to be sure, now.” He bent his neck and kissed the impromptu bandaging, smirking upwards.

 

“Is it too late to take back what I said?”

 

“You know you’d never do it.” 

 

Gehrman huffed and stood, offering his other hand to Laurence, who took it graciously as he joined him closer to eye-level. “Let’s go back out? I think Rom was looking for you before we left.”

 

“Damn it, you're right!”

 

“About her looking for you?”

 

“We were working together on a--  _ augh!” _ Laurence just about dragged Gehrman out of the restroom in exasperation. “I will  _ not _ have her take all the credit on our graduation project!”

 

“Will she?”

 

Laurence’s eyes were fire, passion for and fierce defense of his work overriding a brief caring and loving phase. Gehrman knew the answer.

 

“Go, then! Or I'll… I’ll break up with you if you don't graduate on time!”

 

“You would never!” Laurence called back as he raced down the hall.

  
“Don’t test me, Laurence!” Laughing after him, Gehrman turned back to the crowded room across the hallway and sighed, merging back in with the students.


	3. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring common misconceptions about bisexuality! Also wet dreams. Also mild undertones of unrequited Gehrman/Maria, Don't Like Don't Read Don't Bitch.

“Laurence, if you could just tell me what I did to upset you so much-- don't you look away from me, turn your head back around, we need to work this out! What did I do? What did I  _ not _ do?” Gehrman wrung his hands impatiently. He'd been getting the silent treatment from Laurence all morning, and now that the day was stretching into afternoon, it was starting to become a little ridiculous. “Nearly. Thirty.  _ Years, _ Laurence, and you can't tell me when something is the matter?”

 

His gaze dropped, lips pursed, brows furrowed. 

 

“Fine, twenty-six, is that better?”

 

Still, Laurence would not look at him. He finally spoke, but kept his eyes on the table. “Last night, you were calling out for somebody else.”

 

Dumbstruck, Gehrman could only blink. Once then twice and once again until he found the words to react with. “I did?” 

 

“You don't remember your dream?”

 

“I wasn't aware I'd even had one last night…”

 

“And waking up completely erect?”

 

“It--it happens to plenty of men!” His face flushed bright red. “You know as well as I do that I'm not the only man who wakes up like that, much less in this house!”

 

A smug look passed Laurence’s face, only for a moment. “I don't have them after dreaming of  _ women, _ Gehrman.”

 

That little gulp and sideways glance right afterward must have been all Laurence needed for confirmation -- this wasn't uncommon.

 

“You know I wouldn't think of leaving you.”

 

“And yet…”

 

“If it were another man, would it be any different?”

 

“No, but that is  _ hardly _ my problem.”

 

“Then what is it? What  _ is _ your problem?”

 

Laurence stood, gestured for Gehrman to stand, and when they both faced one another Laurence swiftly closed the space between them. “Pretend, if you will, that you are me and I am you.”

 

“Why can't you just tell me like a normal human being…”

 

“Because I want you to understand how this felt for  _ me.” _

 

An air of dread filled the room when Laurence laid one hand against the small of Gehrman’s back, and reached up to caress his face with the left. Cheek-to-chest, warm breath raising shivers, Laurence moved his right hand down, groping, full of quiet moans and just as Gehrman was ready to pull away and call nonsense on him, off of Laurence’s lips came a slurred and drawled and broken  _ “Oh,  _ Maria…  _ Maria…” _

 

“That doesn't mean anything!” Gehrman nearly shouted, stumbling back in outrage but looking almost unsurprised.

 

“It means when I saw you, all those times, staring at her as she left, it was  _ more _ than you going spacey!” Laurence’s face had turned red, too, but with indignance instead of shame. “You love her.”

 

“And yet, it’s you who’s in my bed and in my thoughts every day, and I haven't once considered leaving you for her or anybody!”

 

“In your dreams, you do!”

 

“I can't control what I dream of, Laurence!”

 

Their steadily raising voices gave the room an echo, bouncing back at them with less intensity, further away but equal in anger.

 

“Are dreams not what we want but cannot give ourselves?”

 

“That's ridiculous. That’s… that's  _ ridiculous.  _ I dream of you plenty, and I have you, don't I?”

 

“But you're still dreaming of Maria.”

 

“Laurence--”

 

“Is it the scandal?”

 

_ “Laurence--” _

 

“She's only a little more than half your age. Your student, too.”

 

“ _ Laurence!” _

 

“Should I stop? She  _ is _ beautiful--”

 

In an instant Gehrman had a sinisterly grinning Laurence pinned by his shoulders to the far wall, teeth grit, breath just a hiss, eyes bright under heavy brows. “What,” he said, his voice low so suddenly. “are you trying to accomplish here?”

 

“I want to know you won't leave me for a woman,” Laurence responded, plain like he was suggesting they take a nice walk outside.

 

“And how do you expect me to do that? Drop her as a student? She's one of my best, Laurence, it's not going to happen. I'll leave you for Maria--I’ll have the  _ gall _ to even try anything with her--when Hell freezes, so if you would just expect a little  _ better _ of me, Laurence, I would appreciate it! So what,” he repeated. “do you want of me? How do you want me to prove it?”

 

He thought on it a moment. “I want you to love me tonight the way you loved Maria in your dreams.”

 

“I didn't even  _ know _ I dreamt until now, how do you expect me to remember?”

 

“The way you  _ would, _ then.”

 

“And if it's less than I would do for you?”

 

“Would it be?”

 

“I would imagine so.”

  
Laurence’s face softened. His eyes glinted as he leaned upward to kiss Gehrman on the mouth. “I don't doubt you…” he whispered, but his kiss was only half-heartedly returned. It was a little skill of his: Laurence could talk a lot of talk, and then walk it just as easily. He could talk himself out of his talk and out of his walk. Most of the time, anyway. Not today.


	4. In The Morning, And

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Laurence doesn't know how to keep his nose in his own business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have you guys know I just barely pulled this back from the brink of angst. I didn't want to. I really did not want to. But damnit these two need SOME happiness in their lives.

“Whose are these?” Amused, Laurence pushed a long, oddly-tailored yet plain-looking dress aside on the hanger rod to see another one, fancier but still wide in the chest and shoulders, laced up the front with frilled cuffs. “And this…  _ fancy  _ little number? Keeping these safe for a student, are you?”

 

Gehrman shot upright in bed, grimaced at the cracking noise his back made, but easily went back to shock. “Are you going through--?!?”

 

“Your closet? Yes, we… well, I needed to borrow a shirt.” Laurence casually pointed to the tattered remains of what was, last night, a nice button-up. His smile warmed, more so when he saw Gehrman cover up his sly grin and try to look scandalized with one hand over his mouth.

 

“I could have gotten it for you, you really didn't need to get up so soon.”

 

“I know my tastes.”

 

“It's just a shirt, Laurence.”

 

“And these?” 

 

“Nobody’s.”

 

“Somebody’s.”

 

“Laurence, don't you give me that look! I'm not seeing anybody. We’ve been over this, we  _ went _ over this  _ last week!” _

 

He took the fancier gown out of the closet, holding it up to his own body where it sank in folds to the floor. “My mother might have worn something like this,” he remarked. “It’s very pretty. Something you’d wear on a night out… not that I'm saying  _ you _ would, Gehrman,” he added when he heard a squeak. “Was it… oh. Was it your mother’s? I heard she passed recently… my condolences. I would have asked if you wanted to talk about it--”

 

“Look, it really isn’t yours to be handling like that.”

 

“I just want to know whose it is.” Sounding so innocent, he swished the evening gown from side to side in admiration. 

 

With a heavy sigh, Gehrman slowly got up and leaned on the bedframe, biting his lip and staring past Laurence. “Would you put that back for a moment and help me find my leg?”

 

“Where do you think it went?”

 

“Up your arse, Laurence. Put the dress down, I've got limited mobility here.”

 

“It wouldn't be the first foreign object you’ve put up there.”

 

“You've  _ had  _ me put up there, you mean.” Right leg braced on the mattress, Gehrman climbed over the bed and  situated himself on the other side -- Laurence was still examining the gown and giving him a sideways glance, but his prosthetic had managed to end up on that side of the room anyway. “Totally careless. You’d think I would have learned by now.”

 

“To be careful when you’re undressing?”

 

“To not trust you to put things where I can get them, you little gremlin.”

 

Laurence huffed. “Then don't let me strip you again!”

 

“But you make it so fun to watch.” Tightening the straps around his leg, Gehrman cocked a brow at Laurence. “Are you going to find yourself a shirt?”

 

“Are you going to put some pants on?”

 

“And deprive you of the view?”

 

“The view that won’t be any better for a whi--” Laurence was promptly interrupted by a pillow launched at his face. He caught it, then tossed it back onto the bed with one hand not holding the dress. “I was  _ hardly _ complaining. Am I going to get any answers on this thing?” he continued. “At first I thought it might be  _ yours, _ but--”

 

Exasperated, red-faced, Gehrman walked over to Laurence and snatched the gown away from him. “It is,” he said. “Let’s not talk about it right now.”

 

“So do you… wear it?”

 

“When the fancy strikes me. It isn't often. I said let’s talk about this later.” 

 

“We should talk about it now.”

 

“Is it that important to you?”

 

“We’ve been together so long and I am only hearing about this  _ now?” _

 

“Oh, because it's common practice to talk about your every oddity in front--in front of--” He shut his mouth, jaw tight, and dug little crescent-shapes into his palms with his fingernails. Laurence turned his gaze downward for half a second to look and worried his bottom lip between two teeth.

 

“Slow down, slow down; you'll only frustrate yourself worse.”

 

“Don’t patronize me, Laurence, _you're_ the one frustrating me right now!”

 

“I'm not patronizing you. It’s only that I hate seeing you work yourself up into… that thing you do,” Laurence waved his hand half-dismissively and approached Gehrman. “I just want to talk about this.”

 

“And I don't. Not right now.” Just as readily, Gehrman backed away and reached for his pants.

 

Laurence’s face fell. “Do you think I'm upset about it? That I'm angry?”

 

There was only silence, and then the shuffling and rustling sounds of Gehrman getting dressed and Laurence finally retrieving a shirt from the closet. The tension only grew with the quiet; the two of them did not dare to speak a single word to each other. A sigh came from one side of the room, the hiss of a breath forced out through the nose from the other, in a back-and-forth of passive attempts to regain a conversation.

 

“So long as I still have my huntsman…”

 

“You do. I promise, you do.”

 

“...Then wear what pleases you, dearest. I'll never understand it, but I can't keep you from it.”

 

“Just, not in front of you?”

 

Laurence considered his thoughts, mulled then over long before he spoke again. “Come see me in the cathedral when you’re able.”

  
He swore he could  _ hear _ Gehrman grinning, and when he finally turned around, it lifted his heart right back up to see that he was right.


	5. Obligatory Height Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: “one of them is wearing th other’s clothes”

“Hold still, will you, Laurence? I need to pin these cuffs.” The pin now returned to between his front teeth so he can use both hands, Gehrman holds Laurence’s ankle firmly between his knees to keep him still. As still as he can — Laurence is still shaking, hair still damp, skin prickling, body never _still_. His clothes hang in front of the fireplace to dry, soaked, smelling of rain and wet grass, and he doesn’t keep spare outfits anywhere but his own room so his smaller body all but disappears into one of Gehrman’s.

One pant leg rolled up and pinned, thrice as thick at its folded point as the rest, looks ridiculous but there they are anyway, matching the second one. Gehrman has to force the pin through the layers yet again but Laurence can walk in these now and that’s what matters.

“Don’t you worry, I’m sure you will reach that growth spurt someday. No shame in being a late bloomer!”

“Ah, yes, my sincerest apologies for being average human height…” Laurence grumbles, teeth chattering. “Tell me something.”

“Tell you what?”

“Do you find this amusing?” Wiggling his hands out of much-too-long, several-inches-too-long sleeves, Laurence catches Gehrman by the ears as, laughing and nodding, he swiftly steals a kiss from Laurence’s pursed lips.


	6. The Blurry Bit Of Reality When Today Becomes Yesterday and Tomorrow Is Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: “one of them is falling asleep while insisting they’re not, they’re totally awake”

There’s a muffled thud as Gehrman’s face hits the open book on the table in front of him. With weary arms he pushes himself upright and Laurence grimaces and reaches over to wipe a bit of saliva from Gehrman’s cheek. It’s late. So late.

“I’m awake, I’m awake…”

“You are—“ Laurence pauses, yawns. “—falling asleep right in front of me. Can’t this wait?”

“I’ve got an exam first thing tomorrow.”

“It is tomorrow.”

“First thing today…” Gehrman tries to drown out a yawn but ends up caught in a cycle: half-yawn, breathe, a little more yawn, breathe, they become the same thing and for a minute he is stuck with his mouth open like a suffocating fish until he can get the yawn out in a violent fashion.

“Just come to bed,” Laurence pleads. He fails to realize what he asked until after something sparks a light in Gehrman’s tired eyes. “Go to— _go_ to bed!”

“Is that an invitation?”

“You’re more subtle drunk than overtired, I hope you know…”

The library is empty and there is no one to hear their quick, exhausted banter, but both of them still look over their shoulders.

“If it’ll get you to sleep.” Pause. “It might help me sleep as well, come to think of it.”

In one forceful movement Gehrman stands and braces himself on the table, rubs the tiredness out of his eyes (leaving them a bright and ironic red in the process), and takes a confident wobbly step toward the door. Laurence, a small smile on his face, follows — one of them will have to be close enough to catch the other if sleep overtakes them before reaching his dorm.


End file.
